The 13th Annual Hunger Games
by AshleyTheWriter
Summary: *Story moved from it's original spot!* With a few tricks, stamina, smiles, and giggles, most tributes can have you wrapped around their pinky. While others, are a little harder to work on. *Rated T because it's the Hunger Games!*
1. The Reaping

**A/N: **Here is the long awaited first chapter. Special thanks to everyone who entered in my story earlier. Credits to kittyistwix for Gossamer!

Please remember, this is somewhat closer to our time, than Katniss' and Peeta's games, so some things are a little more normal!

**I do not own The Hunger Games, or any Hunger Games characters, all content belongs to it's rightful owners.**

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I groan as I wake up to my mothers voice drifting through the house, calling for me to wake up. I sit up in my old, warm bed, and rub my neck. For a second, I wonder why I am up so early, seeing as the sun has barely passed through the trees surrounding the back of the house, where my room is placed. Then I remember; today is reaping day.

My eyes open in shock, and I jump to my feet, yank open the old, wooden dresser, and gingerly take the outfit that lays on top. It was thought out a while ago, a few months back, during the snowy months, and children under eighteen were not allowed in the woods to help with cutting lumber. I still remember the day it was picked, my only friend, Mariah, was over, clothes were everywhere, I was sitting on my bed, watching as she went through every piece of cloth I owned, throwing clothes she didn't deem wearable to the reaping, elsewhere. Finally she came across an outfit she liked, and threw me behind the changing screen, along with the outfit. I put it on, no questions asked, and felt beautiful. I came out from behind the screen, and she instantly loved it. It became my reaping outfit.

I lay it down on my bed, before grabbing a towel, and heading into the bathroom connected to my room. I instantly run some cool water into the tub, as I strip from my well-worn nightclothes. I get into the cool tub, shivering at the contact. I gently scrub every inch of my skin, and thoroughly wash my hair. After I dry off, I head into my bedroom, and examine my clothes. They've only been worn once before. The top is an off-white blouse, that just barely passes my rib cage, has elbow length sleeves, and a draped neckline, it goes with a high waisted, purple skirt, that is skin tight at first, then finishes with soft ruffles. I put it on quickly, but slowly enough as to not crease it.

I stand in front of my mirror and twirl, watching the ruffles near my knees flutter up slightly, then droop back down. Then I focus on my hair. I end up letting it all fall down my back, expect for my bangs, which are clipped backwards into my hair, adding an extra 'poof' to the style. I tuck a flower behind my ear, and leave my room, shutting the door firmly. I head downstairs, my feet lightly hitting the wooden stairs, as I am careful not to wake my family, and head into the kitchen.

I grab a small orange from the fruit basket, and begin to peel it. I take a first bite of the juicy insides, and giggle softly. Oranges are special, and very expensive in Seven, and on the night before reaping day, every family is issued one orange for every person participating in the reaping the following morning. It's a small tradition, a final goodbye to the tributes, since no one will know who they are for a few more hours, a final thank-you from the district's Mayor himself.

I hear a soft knock on my front door, and I race over to answer it, to find Mariah, with her orange, in a soft, ruffly pink dress waiting for me.

"Hello," I say softly, as I have not yet heard my parents beginning to stir.

"Morning," she says with a smile, and I invite her inside. We became friends the year my sister and her brother were sent into the Games. Even more convenient, they died at the same time, when the Careers caught them, at opposite sides of the cornucopia. Making them sent home at the same time, and had both family gatherings at the same time, but Mariah and I have learned never to speak about how we met.

"Ready?" I ask her, us both getting an orange slice ready to be eaten. She nods, and we both throw the orange slice into our mouths, and see who can eat it the fastest. It's become something we do, every time we get a fruit we might not get again for a while, for example, on your birthday, you are allowed one free tesserae, or an apple. Since my family doesn't ever take out the tesserae, I always get the apple, and Mariah's birthday is three days after mine, so I wait until she recives hers, and we both see who can eat a slice the fastest. It's very pointless, but nonetheless, it takes our minds of things, like the reaping, or the dangers of going into the woods while lumber is being chucked everywhere, along with axes.

I open my mouth, having swallowed my orange slice a half second before. I watch Mariah swallow hers, and I smile.

"Okay, you win," she admits, before sitting down on a chair, and I flick on the television. We begin to slowly eat our orange, enjoying the rare tastes, while watching the live reaping in a district who has the misfortune of having their reaping at sunrise. Although our reaping isn't exactly at sunrise, we still have a little while longer to prepare.

I tune into the reaping, learning that it's district Eight, and I watch hesitantly as a twelve year old boy gets picked. No one volunteers in his place, and he bursts out crying, the escort shoots him a glare as she walks over to the girls ball. She sticks a finger in, the boy still bawling his eyes out, and picks out a card. A girl named Gossamer is picked, and she walks up to stage, a beam on her face.

"I vol-" a girl says, popping out of the crowd for a quick second, before being pulled back into it. Gossamer's eyes bug out for a second, before her menacing smirk returns. For a second, I admire a red choker placed around her neck, that has a little bow on it, before she is pulled off stage, and the television goes to a different channel.

"Good morning girls, are you ready to go?" my mother's voice sounds up from behind me, no hint of emotion in it what-so-ever.

"Yes," I mumble, my eyes darting around the room.

"Let's go," my father says blankly, just entering the room. My parents have had three kids. My older sister was lost to the Games, six years ago, and my younger brother was killed by a disease called Depilo. They get a little, _blacked out_, during my reaping days, knowing they can be one slip away from losing all their children.

I walk with my hand clutching onto Mariah's, my father holding my mother's hand, and guiding her to walk, and she just moves blankly, no emotion shown on her face, her hand limp in my fathers, and her jet black hair whipping slightly in the wind. We reach the town square, were the reapings are held, and my father kisses my forehead, wordlessly, then guides my mother off to the separate area from the stage, where the adults gather, and some even exchange bets.

Mariah and I go over to a table, where peacekeepers puncture a small hole in our thumb, stick it onto a sheet of paper, and count the population of a district, and be sure every one is here, if someone isn't present, peacekeepers are sent to their homes to retrieve them, and punish them later. It's a very sick time to do it, considering two children are about to be, possibly, sent to their death, and all they care about is population counts? It would be more efficient, for the population, to do it at a later time, but I guess, they deemed it worthy to do it now, and questioning the capital is one thing you should never do.

Mariah and I walk into the roped off area for fourteen year-olds, and stand there, our hands squeezing each others, staring at nothing in particular. About ten minutes later, the mayor comes onto stage, followed by the districts only two victors, one of which only won a few years ago. They take their seats, and the mayor motions for the crowd to calm down, although most of us were silent, right before a dark skinned, cheery capital lady comes onto stage.

"Welcome district Seven!" she booms, a beam spreading across her face, as she stares over the empty gazes of my district's population. "Today will be very exciting, but before the excitement begins, let's tune into this clip, shall we?" she asks us, as if it's an option, before walking over to her seat, and sitting down, just in time for a clip to come on. It's a new one, different from last year's. I guess because of the new president elected, they would make a new one with him. It shows him over and over, the dark days that happened not to long ago, while the president's over voice talks about the origin of the games. Soon, the escort comes back up to the microphone, just as the clip shuts off.

"Don't you love that?" she breathes, with what I assume to be, a warm smile on her face. "Now, let's chose our boy tribute, shall we?" she asks, yet again, a question, byt we have no choice but to let her do whatever she wants. She gingerly walks over to a glass bowl, her dainty hand jetting into the bowl, and pulling out a slip. She then walks back over to the microphone, only two fingers still holding onto the slip, and opens it, the sounds of the paper being opened echoing around our quiet district.

"Matthew Foler," she annouces, a sigh of relief erupting from several boys. I've heard about him before. His parents like to keep in touch with their Canadian ancestry, his parents don't let him attend the district school, and they live in the coldest part of our district, claiming relations to the Canadian Eskimos. He's a bit strange, and under-educated. He walks up to the stage, a confused look in his eyes, as if he doesn't completely understand what just happened. The escort places a quick hand on his shoulder, and Matthew bolts up straight, as if the escort smacked his spine.

"Any volunteers?" she asks the quiet crowd. After five seconds of waiting, she gives up, and moves over to another glass ball, which I presume to be the girls' ball. Her long finger select a card on top, before she, again, returns to the microphone. The faint rustle as she undoes the tape on the slip, makes your heart pound faster, wishing she would just announce the tribute, and move on, but of course, she doesn't. Finally the rustle stops, and everyone can see the white slip of paper spread between her two, disgustingly pale, white hands. My heart pounds as she takes a deep breath in, and then annouces the name.

"Kilian Summers," she says, and my heart skips another beat. I can hear my mom squeak out a noise, as Mariah's hand tightens against mine. I look over at her shocked face, and she looks like she is about to yell. Or volunteer. I wrestle my hand from hers.

"Don't," I dare her, before walking out of the crowd, and claiming my spot on the stage. She looks forewarn as I glance over the crowd, her cheeks drained of any life that used to remain in them. This must be what my sister felt like. Except she hadn't already lost a sibling to the games, and her only friend hadn't lost her only sibling to the same game. I see my mother, her head buried into my father's chest, I look over the crowd, most of which, return my gaze, with a sorrow-filled ones. I look over every person I've ever hated, any person who has ever hated me, and know, in this one instant, I am forgiven by everyone.

"Any volunteers?" the escort offers, briefly taking all attention off me. My eyes find their way back to my best friend, who looks as if she is about to run out into the aisle. I grimly shake my head, my eyes firmly locked on hers. She pleads with me, and I shake my head again.

"May the odds be ever in your favor!" the escort chimes, and the population is free to go home or say goodbye if they wish. I watch my only friend walk with the crowd for a while, then make a run for the Justice Building. I smile, and stop in my tracks, as I am tempted to run to her. A peacekeepers nudges me forward, into the building, where heavy doors slam shut, stealing my best friend away from me, for a few minutes before our final goodbyes. Yet again, I am pushed into another room, heavy doors slamming shut the second my whole body is inside. I sit down on a nearby chair, my legs about to give up beneath me, and bite my lip, trying not to sob. I've been in this room before, when I was six years younger. The doors open, and my mother and father are pushed inside.

"You have one minute," the peacekeeper reminds them. My mother rushes up to me.

"You have to win," she demands, the same thing she did for my sister. I nod, too afraid to speak, for fear of weeping.

"Remember we love you," my dad says, peering over my mothers shoulder at me, as my mom cups my face.

"You're so young, and talented, and beautiful," she says, a tear rolling down her cheek. I wrap my arms around her, and tears threaten to fall

"I love you mama," I say, pulling her into a hug, and kissing her cheek. I move over to my dad.

"I'll see you when I get back?" I ask, and he nods. "I love you too, Papa," I say, pulling him into a hug also.

"Time's up," a peacekeeper says, slamming the door open. My father grabs my mother, and they rush out of the room, afraid to be hurt by the peacekeeper. A few quiet seconds pass.

"NO! I can't lose my last child! The rest are de-" my mother's voice screams, before followed by a loud bang. I hear a female scream, and a male begins to yell.

"No! Julianna!" my father yells, before another bang. Another female scream. The doors open again, making me jump, before my best friend is flung into the room.

"Three minutes," a peacekeeper says, slamming the doors shut. Now I see, my mother and father came in here together, earning them less time, tan coming in one at a time.

"Kilian, I am s-so sorry," she says, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I'll be okay, I'll come home a victor, and we won't starve ever again," I say, my voice quivering, and a loose tear streaming down my cheeks.

"No, I'm sorry about your parents," she says, her bottom lip quivering, her dirty blonde hair shaking slightly.

"What about them?" I heard them screaming, but then again, their last living child was being towed away to the games, but what were those bangs?

"They're dead," she says, before she loses it, and a shaky sob escapes her. I feel my own heart drop.

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**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed! Please review! (Favoriting wouldn't be so bad either!)

**Credits to Fluteorwrite for betaing my story! THANKSSSS!**


	2. Fluttering in the Breeze

**A/N: **Lupus Overkill, Kittyistwix, wholockfromcamelot, fluteorwrite, and SeekerDraconis, sithlord8665, and somedayisours for reviewing, favoriting, or alerting my story! Thanks for the support! I was listening to When You're Gone, by Avril Lavigne when writing this, you guys should check it out!  
I do not own the Hunger Games, all content belongs to it rightful owners! I'll stop babbling, and let you read. Meet you at the bottom!

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I sit back onto the chair, my hand clutching my shirt, over where my heart is. I feel it pounding weakly, and I gasp.

"I'm so sorry, I tried to stop them," she says, tears streaming down her cheeks, she moves closer to me, and rubs my back, while I gasp out weak sobs.

"Time's up," a peackeeper says, and I nod slowly.

"I'll see you when I come home!" I shout, just as the doors slam shut, and the only living person in the world who means anything to me, is pulled away. I sit on the chair, my hands fly to my face, and I silently cry into them. I'm there for a while, just sobbing into my palms, not noticing anything else in the world. My whole family is dead. My best friend will soon be miles from me. I don't know what to do next.

"Kilian," I hear a voice softly say, than feel a gentle hand placed on my shoulder. "It's time to go darling," the voice continues, I nod, and stand up. My eyes open, and I feel guilt wash over me. I stumble over my own two feet, before the hand is yet again placed on my back. "Take this, it'll make you look like you never cried," the voice says, before two cherry red pills are dropped into my hands. The dark-skinned escort comes in front of me.

"Let's go," she says softly, and I take the pill, and follow her, as she leads me out of the room. She takes me into a hallway, and instantly covers my eyes with her hands, to shield me from the scene. Right before we leave, I catch a glimpse of my parents' blood spoiling the tile beneath it. My heart swells, and I want to run and cry, instead, I suck in my chest, hold my head a little higher, and exit the Justice Building, and into the heavy, bright rays of the sun.

Even the birds aren't happy enough to chirp.

We are shoved into a car. I've never been in a car before. I bite my lip to keep it from quivering the whole entire ride. Our escort goes on and on explaining things about the capital, I learned her name was Dilki Gergin, but most people call her Dil. She talks about sponsors, and the chariots, foods, people, fashion, prep teams, and the list goes on. She finally stopped chucking out random stuff at us, even though neither Matthew or I were listening. The car stops, and I jump out immediately, ignoring the hand set out by a young man. I walk a few feet, then stop, I take a few deep breaths before waiting for everyone else to catch up.

"What are you waiting for? GO!" Dil booms, and I hesitantly take a step forward. Dil walks in front of me, and I walk slowly behind her, as the victors, and Matthew follow me. Camera's are everywhere. I can see many pointed at me, the death of my parents probably spread everywhere the second it happened. I stare directly into them, my face emotionless, until I give the camera a small smirk, and turn away. I take one step in the train, and I instantly feel distracted from the day's events. My grieving was lost for a while, in the vibrant colors. The posh, deep greens line the walls, chairs, tables, and everywhere possible, everywhere that isn't glass I mean. While the floor is a deep brown. It makes the train car itself look like a tree. On a table, there is a glass bowl, filled with oranges. Could it be only this morning I was eating them with my best friend? It feels like forever ago.

I make my way over to the orange bowl, and pick up the one on top. Everyone looks at me, and I slowly crush my fingers into the outer layer. A peacekeeper walks in, and right before he leaves, I throw the orange at him as hard as I can.

"THAT'S FOR MY PARENTS!" I shout at the peacekeeper, and grab another orange, and crush it too. Everyone stares at me, and slowly back away. I crush the orange in my hand, and let it drip to the brown, wood flooring beneath me.

"Kilian, sweetie, it's been a long day, how about you go to bed?" Dil offers, and I glare at her.

"It's been a long day?" I demand, my anger rising. I watch the two victors grab Matthew. and back away from Dil. "You Capital people will never know the hardships of going through the Games! You just lounge around, watching us die on the television, party when someone you hated dies, and pick another favorite, when your old favorite dies! Your just another Capital skank. Well, guess what? I lost my parents because of these games!" I shout at her, and instantly see the hurt on her features. I wanted nothing more than for her to know I didn't mean that, I was just having a breakdown, but she took it the way I would have.

"District dirt! You so unappreciative of what the Capital does for you! We make sure you live longer in the games! We protect you from wildlife. We give you homes to live in!" she shouts at me, her hands flying up into the air. I run out of the car, and into another. I keep running, until I hit a door. 'Female Tribute' marks the door in pink cursive. I rush inside, and collapse on the bed, the tears I held in for so long, finally streaming down my cheeks. After I cry myself out, I quickly strip from my reaping outfit, and slip under the covers. I shut my eyes tight, forcing the dreams to come.

_"Kiley, come see your baby brother," my mother cooes, laying on the bed she shares with my father. I slowly walk over to the side of the bed she is closest to, and climb in next to her._

_"Mama, what's his name?" I say softly, peering over my mother's shoulder, and looking at the sleeping baby in her arms._

_"Burke," she answers, adjusting the blanket surrounding the baby, so I can get a better view of his face._

_"Mama, can I hold him?" I ask, and she nods. I sit up and hold my arms out to take my baby brother. She lays him gently into my arms. The hours of my mother screaming during labor wash away, at the sight of this baby in my arms._

_"Hello there, Burke," I say, as he opens his eyes. Underneath are beautiful, crystal blue eyes. A darkness happens so quickly, and my surroundings change._

_My mother is holding Burke in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. She lays him into a coffin, and kisses his forehead one last time. I want to run to her, to tell her to pick Burke up, to tell her he is still alive. I can't move, I can't scream. Something tells me the baby is really dead. My baby brother who was only three weeks old, **dead.**_

_"Goodbye, my baby," she chokes out, and closes the coffin door. A sob escapes her, and she pounds on the coffin lid. "MY BABY!" she screams. "My little, little baby," she whimpers, and walks away from the coffin, and the coffin is slowly lowered into a dirt hole._

I jolt up, a scream still escaping my mouth, as my eyes adjust to the light. I push the sweaty cover off of me, as I think back on the dream I just had. I just relived my brothers first day, and his last. I slip into a thin nightgown, and walk out of my room, and head one direction of the train. I walk until I hit a room with a balcony at the end of it, and I race outside. It's cooler out here. By a lot. I place a gentle hand on the railing, letting the wind whip my dark hair behind me. I close my eyes, and try not to focus, as the icy wind makes me cold.

"Kilian, are you okay?" I hear Dil's voice sound out from behind me.

"I didn't mean it," I mutter into the wind, my eyes still shut, my icy fingers still grasping the bronze railing.

"I understand," she mumbles, placing her warm hand on one of my own. "Kilian, darling, let's get you inside," she says sincerely, removing my grip on the railing. She guides me inside, and over to the kitchen car. She sits me on a deep green chair, and places a soft, velvet blanket on me.

"I'll be back," she promises, before flicking on the television, and leaving. The reaping recaps are on. Ceasar Flickerman, and Claudius Templesmith are commenting on the tributes. My picture flashes up.

"Y'know, Ceasar, I heard her parents were shot after her reaping," Claudius comments.

"Her last name sounds familiar," Ceasar ponders.

"Yes, her sister, Makayla, was in the games a few years back," her picture flashes on screen. Just seeing her picture makes my heart skip a beat.

"Ahhh yes, Makayla Summers. I remember her," Ceasar says, before a clip comes on. She's running.

_Makayla is running._ I instantly reconigize this scene. It's her death.

_"Run little Makayla," I hear the career who killed her coo. "Run," the career demands. Makayla makes it a few feet away from the career, but trips._

"NO!" I scream at the television, even though I know it can't be undone._ The career jumps on her back. "I was hoping you would live longer," the career remarks, tsking at her. He picks up his knife, and stabs my sister in the back._

I can hear her cry out, but the camera is focused on the career.

_"That's for Charlian!" he cries, before stabbing my sister in the side of her neck. The cannon booms, and the clip ends._

Charlian was the counterpart tribute for the career who murdered my sister in front of Panem. My sister killed her, while the career pack was watching.

"Let's recap the reapings from today, shall we Ceasar?" Claudius comments, and the television goes dark, besides golden lettering, spelling out District One.

A beautiful girl named Sapphira volunteers in place of a small, twelve year old. Sapphira herself looks beautiful, with her delicately pale white skin, dark black hair, that has auburn tints, and full red lips.

Her counterpart is a strong, muscularly built eighteen year old, with tan skin, dark brown hair, and golden eyes, named Tojo. He also volunteered, in place of a thirteen year-old, who was built, but not as much as Tojo.

Gold lettering spelling out District Two.

A small girl is reaped named Helena. No one volunteers in her place. She looks beautiful, with raven black hair darker than my own. When she stands on stage, she looks almost pixie like.

The male tribute is a dark skinned, tall, and more built than Tojo. I didn't quite catch his name in the moment, but he was big.

Gold lettering spelling out District Three.

A girl around my size, with dark curly brown hair, grey eyes, in a light blue dress is picked. Her name is Binary Faber, and she looked a little shocked, but happy when she was picked.

Her counterpart is a small twelve year old, with white hair, pale skin, and red eyes. An albino, named Clank.

Gold lettering spelling out District Four.

A tall, dry haired girl is chosen. As she walks, her legs reveals a giant birthmark. She moves funny, as if her limbs don't quite fit the rest of her body. She is named Maras.

The boy is a short, eighteen year old, with horrible acne, disgusting hair, dry skin, and yellowish teeth. It's as if he spent too much time around smoke, which is very uncommon in four. His name is Johnal.

Gold lettering. District Five.

Two unkempt, skinny, and tall fifteen year olds are picked. Debra and Pinal Wignod. Brother and sister. I'd hate to be in their spot.

Gold lettering. District Six.

A beautiful girl with long blonde hair, that goes to her hips, with full bangs is chosen. As the camera zooms in on her face, I get chills from how light her icy blue eyes are.

Giovan Libai, a thirteen year old, with sunburns all over him, sticking out in bright red blotches, red hair, and brown eyes.

Gold lettering, and it's my district. District Seven.

Matthew is picked first, the fear sensual in his eyes.

Than me, my face steady, as I climb to the stage.

District Eight comes quickly, and I'm thankful for that.

The same boy I saw get picked when I was sitting on the couch with Mariah is picked. He begins to cry, while the escort moves over to the other glass bowl.

Gossamer is picked. I catch a better look of her choker, and even though it's simple, it's beautiful.

District Nine comes.

A light blonde haired girl is chosen, named Fera.

The boy replicates Fera, but they don't share the same last name.

District Ten.

Lily Tito is picked. She has auburn hair, and a slim build.

Goer Hersomith volunteers in place of a tiny thirteen year-old, even though he isn't off much better.

Gold letters; District Eleven.

Alexia Rosenwood volunteers for an older girl. She walks up to the stage, fearless, with her honey blonde hair whipping in the wind, her green eyes settled on nothing.

I didn't quite catch the boy at all, admiring the fearless girl who volunteered for an older girl. Who looked as if the world isn't going to bring her down.

Gold letters, and the poorest district of all, District Twelve.

Two mangy, tan skinned, black haired, grey eyed twelve year olds are picked. I can already tell, they don't stand a chance.

"I think we should get to to bed, we will be in the capital shortly, so you might as well get as much sleep as you can," Dil says with a sympathetic voice. She is leaning on a wall, as she speaks. I nod at her, and walk over to my room, falling asleep the instant I hit my bed.

"We are in the Capital! Wake up Kilian!" Dil's voice sounds out. I groan, and sit up, rubbing my neck. Then I make my way over to the dresser, and pull out a khaki skirt, and a deep purple blouse. I slip into them easily, and put on some black ballet flats. I was amazed by the selection of things here. It's all so, _different._ To think the Capital buys all new clothes every year, and they all look so expensive. I brush my hair, and just let it fall down my back, before leaving my compartment.

By the time the train begins to slow, I've just made it to the windows. I stare out over the vibrant colors, someone recognizes the train, and begins to cheer. Soon, the whole crowd is following in the lady's footsteps, and they are cheering crazily. I wave a little, before the train stops, and all the lighting in the car is replaced by dark. Someone flickers a light on, and Dil grabs my arm, and guides me out of the train. She frees my arm, and lets me go. I take a few positive steps forward, then I smile brightly. I wave enthusiastically, blow kisses, and soon I have the crowd swooning over me. Dil motions for me to come over to her, so I walk over there slowly, but fast enough to beat Matthew, and the victors. Dil brings me over to a room, and stops.

"This is where your prep team will transform you for the tribute parade, do whatever they say, and be careful," she says softly, and I nod. I'm thankful to have a female escort, or else, the female tribute would be the only female on the District Seven team. I walk inside, and three females greet me. Two of them look similar, with red hair, that spills down there back in smooth waves, porcelain white skin, and bright blue eyes. Then the other female looks entirely different. She has a baby pink tint to her skin, purple hair, that is piled on top of her head with braids, and deep grey eyes.

"Hello, I am Ellie, and this is my twin Elliea," one of the redheaded girls says, motioning to the other one mid-sentence.

"I am Alina," the purple haired female says.

"Kilian," I say softly, with a small nod. They sit me down on a chair, and lean it back, and instantly go to work. Ellie, I believe, plays around with my hair, the other twin paints my nails, while Alina waxes my body-hair, eyebrows, and applies some make-up. Soon, they leave, not once speaking a word, and Alina throws me a robe. I pull it on, and sit up in the chair. I notice my long hair isn't flowing down my back again, and I stand up to look in the mirror. My hair is in a bun, with two, slim braids wrapped around it. A small collection of fake, green, and orange leaves is woven into the front of my braids, giving the illusion of a crown. My eyes have light orange over them, my lips are glossed a peachy color, and my cheeks have traces of red, orange, and pink in them. My facial features are highlighted, and I feel beautiful. I admire myself in the mirror for a little while, and I barely notice as a woman steps into the room.

"Kilian, my name is Macira," a soprano voice sounds out from the other side of the room. I turn around to see a woman with light brown hair, with bright pink highlights. She has pink makeup all over her face, and is wearing a pink dress.

"Hi," I say softly, as she takes off my robe, and inspects my naked body.

"Yes, this will work perfectly," she mumbles to herself, before leaving the room. She isn't gone a full thirty seconds before she returns, this time, a off-white bag in her hands. She unzips it, to reveal a deep green dress. I slip into it with ease, and admire myself in the mirror. The top part is tightened against my skin, with a corset, the bottom flows out, in green waves. Among the waves, there are several cream orange highlights.

"Put these on too," Macira says, slipping some shoes under my dress bottom. I step into them, and even in the high heels, the dress touches the floor. I look like a princess. The leaves are my crown, and the dress is my gown.

Macira steps me into an elevator on the side of the room, and we go down quickly. I bunch up a bit of the soft fabric when the elevator begins, the drop and smooth it out, when the elevator door's open. The first thing I see is tributes. Most of them are already down here, some on their chariots, some talking to other tributes, and some screaming about something I couldn't make out. The girl from Three is a few feet away, and she is readjusting a sliverish black body suit, that to me, looks very uncomfortable. I spot out the brown-haired girl from eight, named Gossamer. The girl who gave a menacing smirk, and was glad to participate in these sick games. She was wearing a red silk skirt, along with a embroidered bodice, and she still has that red choker on.

I climb into the district Seven chariot, not bothering to eye over the rest of the tributes, and wait until the first chariots begin to move. The second Six's chariot begins to move, Macira comes up to me.

"Throw your arms up when the chariot stops," she whispers, and the chariot's off. Trying to make sense of what she said, I hazily wave to the crowd. Their loud cheers bring me back to reality, and I wave, blow kisses, I even catch a flower thrown at me, kiss a petal, and throw it back in the general direction of where it came from. The chariot stops, and I lift my arms up. A gasp escapes Matthew, and the crowd. I look down, to see the gentle flows of green fabric turn into leaves, and gently drift away, as if there was a slight breeze. I am left in a skin tight, knee length, strapless, cream orange dress, that's made out of a rough leather. I watch as my leaves fly away, slowly, carried by a non-existent breeze.

Snow comes onto the balcony shortly after the District Twelve chariot arrives. He looks young, too young to be president. It's as if he just turned twenty, and was elected. He looks oddly normal for the centerpiece of the Capital. He has plain, short, brown hair, and creamy white skin. Even if he does look normal, he is still the sickest of anyone here.

"Welcome, tributes," he motions towards the chariots, "guests," he motions towards the crowd of capital people, and they go crazy. He begins the speech of how the dark days began, and why we have the Hunger Games. Then he explains the rules, and makes it sound a lot more difficult than it is. If I was in his position, and I would say; "This is the Hunger Games. We take twenty four children, we polish them up, and parade them around the gem of Panem, then throw them into an arena, and let them fight out to the death, until one remains standing. Then we take that person, and remind them of their games every year until they die. Don't worry, us here in the capital are all free from harm." Then his speech is over, and the chariots begin to move again, and are enveloped in darkness for a few seconds.

* * *

**A:N/ **Now, let's give credit where credit is due.

Sapphira Golde; District 1- wholockfromcamelot.

Tojo Micita; District 1- Whirl writer.

Helena (Howl) Draconix; District 2- Incubiis.

Binary Faber; District 3- Lupus Overkill.

Maras Athila; District 4- xXInfinity'sSoundXx

Elise Victorien Rochefort; District 6- SeekerDraconis (Sorry, SeekerDraconis, I forgot her the first time I wrote this. My apologies!)

Gossamer Abigail Pierson; District 8- Kittyistwix

Fera Chansolar; District 9- Somedayisours

Alexia Rosenwood; District 11- Sithlord8665

Please review! Feedback helps me improve! (Favoriting is loved too!)


	3. Just A Girl With Some Attitude!

**A/N: **Lupus Overkill, Kittyistwix, wholockfromcamelot, fluteorwrite, and SeekerDraconis, sithlord8665, and somedayisours for reviewing, favoriting, or alerting my story! Thanks for the support! I was listening to When You're Gone, by Avril Lavigne when writing this, you guys should check it out!  
I do not own the Hunger Games, all content belongs to it rightful owners! I'll stop babbling, and let you read. Meet you at the bottom!

* * *

I sit back onto the chair, my hand clutching my shirt, over where my heart is. I feel it pounding weakly, and I gasp.

"I'm so sorry, I tried to stop them," she says, tears streaming down her cheeks, she moves closer to me, and rubs my back, while I gasp out weak sobs.

"Time's up," a peackeeper says, and I nod slowly.

"I'll see you when I come home!" I shout, just as the doors slam shut, and the only living person in the world who means anything to me, is pulled away. I sit on the chair, my hands fly to my face, and I silently cry into them. I'm there for a while, just sobbing into my palms, not noticing anything else in the world. My whole family is dead. My best friend will soon be miles from me. I don't know what to do next.

"Kilian," I hear a voice softly say, than feel a gentle hand placed on my shoulder. "It's time to go darling," the voice continues, I nod, and stand up. My eyes open, and I feel guilt wash over me. I stumble over my own two feet, before the hand is yet again placed on my back. "Take this, it'll make you look like you never cried," the voice says, before two cherry red pills are dropped into my hands. The dark-skinned escort comes in front of me.

"Let's go," she says softly, and I take the pill, and follow her, as she leads me out of the room. She takes me into a hallway, and instantly covers my eyes with her hands, to shield me from the scene. Right before we leave, I catch a glimpse of my parents' blood spoiling the tile beneath it. My heart swells, and I want to run and cry, instead, I suck in my chest, hold my head a little higher, and exit the Justice Building, and into the heavy, bright rays of the sun.

Even the birds aren't happy enough to chirp.

We are shoved into a car. I've never been in a car before. I bite my lip to keep it from quivering the whole entire ride. Our escort goes on and on explaining things about the capital, I learned her name was Dilki Gergin, but most people call her Dil. She talks about sponsors, and the chariots, foods, people, fashion, prep teams, and the list goes on. She finally stopped chucking out random stuff at us, even though neither Matthew or I were listening. The car stops, and I jump out immediately, ignoring the hand set out by a young man. I walk a few feet, then stop, I take a few deep breaths before waiting for everyone else to catch up.

"What are you waiting for? GO!" Dil booms, and I hesitantly take a step forward. Dil walks in front of me, and I walk slowly behind her, as the victors, and Matthew follow me. Camera's are everywhere. I can see many pointed at me, the death of my parents probably spread everywhere the second it happened. I stare directly into them, my face emotionless, until I give the camera a small smirk, and turn away. I take one step in the train, and I instantly feel distracted from the day's events. My grieving was lost for a while, in the vibrant colors. The posh, deep greens line the walls, chairs, tables, and everywhere possible, everywhere that isn't glass I mean. While the floor is a deep brown. It makes the train car itself look like a tree. On a table, there is a glass bowl, filled with oranges. Could it be only this morning I was eating them with my best friend? It feels like forever ago.

I make my way over to the orange bowl, and pick up the one on top. Everyone looks at me, and I slowly crush my fingers into the outer layer. A peacekeeper walks in, and right before he leaves, I throw the orange at him as hard as I can.

"THAT'S FOR MY PARENTS!" I shout at the peacekeeper, and grab another orange, and crush it too. Everyone stares at me, and slowly back away. I crush the orange in my hand, and let it drip to the brown, wood flooring beneath me.

"Kilian, sweetie, it's been a long day, how about you go to bed?" Dil offers, and I glare at her.

"It's been a long day?" I demand, my anger rising. I watch the two victors grab Matthew. and back away from Dil. "You Capital people will never know the hardships of going through the Games! You just lounge around, watching us die on the television, party when someone you hated dies, and pick another favorite, when your old favorite dies! Your just another Capital skank. Well, guess what? I lost my parents because of these games!" I shout at her, and instantly see the hurt on her features. I wanted nothing more than for her to know I didn't mean that, I was just having a breakdown, but she took it the way I would have.

"District dirt! You so unappreciative of what the Capital does for you! We make sure you live longer in the games! We protect you from wildlife. We give you homes to live in!" she shouts at me, her hands flying up into the air. I run out of the car, and into another. I keep running, until I hit a door. 'Female Tribute' marks the door in pink cursive. I rush inside, and collapse on the bed, the tears I held in for so long, finally streaming down my cheeks. After I cry myself out, I quickly strip from my reaping outfit, and slip under the covers. I shut my eyes tight, forcing the dreams to come.

_"Kiley, come see your baby brother," my mother cooes, laying on the bed she shares with my father. I slowly walk over to the side of the bed she is closest to, and climb in next to her._

_"Mama, what's his name?" I say softly, peering over my mother's shoulder, and looking at the sleeping baby in her arms._

_"Burke," she answers, adjusting the blanket surrounding the baby, so I can get a better view of his face._

_"Mama, can I hold him?" I ask, and she nods. I sit up and hold my arms out to take my baby brother. She lays him gently into my arms. The hours of my mother screaming during labor wash away, at the sight of this baby in my arms._

_"Hello there, Burke," I say, as he opens his eyes. Underneath are beautiful, crystal blue eyes. A darkness happens so quickly, and my surroundings change._

_My mother is holding Burke in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. She lays him into a coffin, and kisses his forehead one last time. I want to run to her, to tell her to pick Burke up, to tell her he is still alive. I can't move, I can't scream. Something tells me the baby is really dead. My baby brother who was only three weeks old, **dead.**_

_"Goodbye, my baby," she chokes out, and closes the coffin door. A sob escapes her, and she pounds on the coffin lid. "MY BABY!" she screams. "My little, little baby," she whimpers, and walks away from the coffin, and the coffin is slowly lowered into a dirt hole._

I jolt up, a scream still escaping my mouth, as my eyes adjust to the light. I push the sweaty cover off of me, as I think back on the dream I just had. I just relived my brothers first day, and his last. I slip into a thin nightgown, and walk out of my room, and head one direction of the train. I walk until I hit a room with a balcony at the end of it, and I race outside. It's cooler out here. By a lot. I place a gentle hand on the railing, letting the wind whip my dark hair behind me. I close my eyes, and try not to focus, as the icy wind makes me cold.

"Kilian, are you okay?" I hear Dil's voice sound out from behind me.

"I didn't mean it," I mutter into the wind, my eyes still shut, my icy fingers still grasping the bronze railing.

"I understand," she mumbles, placing her warm hand on one of my own. "Kilian, darling, let's get you inside," she says sincerely, removing my grip on the railing. She guides me inside, and over to the kitchen car. She sits me on a deep green chair, and places a soft, velvet blanket on me.

"I'll be back," she promises, before flicking on the television, and leaving. The reaping recaps are on. Ceasar Flickerman, and Claudius Templesmith are commenting on the tributes. My picture flashes up.

"Y'know, Ceasar, I heard her parents were shot after her reaping," Claudius comments.

"Her last name sounds familiar," Ceasar ponders.

"Yes, her sister, Makayla, was in the games a few years back," her picture flashes on screen. Just seeing her picture makes my heart skip a beat.

"Ahhh yes, Makayla Summers. I remember her," Ceasar says, before a clip comes on. She's running.

_Makayla is running._ I instantly reconigize this scene. It's her death.

_"Run little Makayla," I hear the career who killed her coo. "Run," the career demands. Makayla makes it a few feet away from the career, but trips._

"NO!" I scream at the television, even though I know it can't be undone._ The career jumps on her back. "I was hoping you would live longer," the career remarks, tsking at her. He picks up his knife, and stabs my sister in the back._

I can hear her cry out, but the camera is focused on the career.

_"That's for Charlian!" he cries, before stabbing my sister in the side of her neck. The cannon booms, and the clip ends._

Charlian was the counterpart tribute for the career who murdered my sister in front of Panem. My sister killed her, while the career pack was watching.

"Let's recap the reapings from today, shall we Ceasar?" Claudius comments, and the television goes dark, besides golden lettering, spelling out District One.

A beautiful girl named Sapphira volunteers in place of a small, twelve year old. Sapphira herself looks beautiful, with her delicately pale white skin, dark black hair, that has auburn tints, and full red lips.

Her counterpart is a strong, muscularly built eighteen year old, with tan skin, dark brown hair, and golden eyes, named Tojo. He also volunteered, in place of a thirteen year-old, who was built, but not as much as Tojo.

Gold lettering spelling out District Two.

A small girl is reaped named Helena. No one volunteers in her place. She looks beautiful, with raven black hair darker than my own. When she stands on stage, she looks almost pixie like.

The male tribute is a dark skinned, tall, and more built than Tojo. I didn't quite catch his name in the moment, but he was big.

Gold lettering spelling out District Three.

A girl around my size, with dark curly brown hair, grey eyes, in a light blue dress is picked. Her name is Binary Faber, and she looked a little shocked, but happy when she was picked.

Her counterpart is a small twelve year old, with white hair, pale skin, and red eyes. An albino, named Clank.

Gold lettering spelling out District Four.

A tall, dry haired girl is chosen. As she walks, her legs reveals a giant birthmark. She moves funny, as if her limbs don't quite fit the rest of her body. She is named Maras.

The boy is a short, eighteen year old, with horrible acne, disgusting hair, dry skin, and yellowish teeth. It's as if he spent too much time around smoke, which is very uncommon in four. His name is Johnal.

Gold lettering. District Five.

Two unkempt, skinny, and tall fifteen year olds are picked. Debra and Pinal Wignod. Brother and sister. I'd hate to be in their spot.

Gold lettering. District Six.

A beautiful girl with long blonde hair, that goes to her hips, with full bangs volunteers. As the camera zooms in on her face, I get chills from how light her icy blue eyes are.

Giovan Libai, a thirteen year old, with sunburns all over him, sticking out in bright red blotches, red hair, and brown eyes.

Gold lettering, and it's my district. District Seven.

Matthew is picked first, the fear sensual in his eyes.

Than me, my face steady, as I climb to the stage.

District Eight comes quickly, and I'm thankful for that.

The same boy I saw get picked when I was sitting on the couch with Mariah is picked. He begins to cry, while the escort moves over to the other glass bowl.

Gossamer is picked. I catch a better look of her choker, and even though it's simple, it's beautiful.

District Nine comes.

A light blonde haired girl is chosen, named Fera.

The boy replicates Fera, but they don't share the same last name.

District Ten.

Lily Tito is picked. She has auburn hair, and a slim build.

Goer Hersomith volunteers in place of a tiny thirteen year-old, even though he isn't off much better.

Gold letters; District Eleven.

Alexia Rosenwood volunteers for an older girl. She walks up to the stage, fearless, with her honey blonde hair whipping in the wind, her green eyes settled on nothing.

I didn't quite catch the boy at all, admiring the fearless girl who volunteered for an older girl. Who looked as if the world isn't going to bring her down.

Gold letters, and the poorest district of all, District Twelve.

Two mangy, tan skinned, black haired, grey eyed twelve year olds are picked. I can already tell, they don't stand a chance.

"I think we should get to to bed, we will be in the capital shortly, so you might as well get as much sleep as you can," Dil says with a sympathetic voice. She is leaning on a wall, as she speaks. I nod at her, and walk over to my room, falling asleep the instant I hit my bed.

"We are in the Capital! Wake up Kilian!" Dil's voice sounds out. I groan, and sit up, rubbing my neck. Then I make my way over to the dresser, and pull out a khaki skirt, and a deep purple blouse. I slip into them easily, and put on some black ballet flats. I was amazed by the selection of things here. It's all so, _different._ To think the Capital buys all new clothes every year, and they all look so expensive. I brush my hair, and just let it fall down my back, before leaving my compartment.

By the time the train begins to slow, I've just made it to the windows. I stare out over the vibrant colors, someone recognizes the train, and begins to cheer. Soon, the whole crowd is following in the lady's footsteps, and they are cheering crazily. I wave a little, before the train stops, and all the lighting in the car is replaced by dark. Someone flickers a light on, and Dil grabs my arm, and guides me out of the train. She frees my arm, and lets me go. I take a few positive steps forward, then I smile brightly. I wave enthusiastically, blow kisses, and soon I have the crowd swooning over me. Dil motions for me to come over to her, so I walk over there slowly, but fast enough to beat Matthew, and the victors. Dil brings me over to a room, and stops.

"This is where your prep team will transform you for the tribute parade, do whatever they say, and be careful," she says softly, and I nod. I'm thankful to have a female escort, or else, the female tribute would be the only female on the District Seven team. I walk inside, and three females greet me. Two of them look similar, with red hair, that spills down there back in smooth waves, porcelain white skin, and bright blue eyes. Then the other female looks entirely different. She has a baby pink tint to her skin, purple hair, that is piled on top of her head with braids, and deep grey eyes.

"Hello, I am Ellie, and this is my twin Elliea," one of the redheaded girls says, motioning to the other one mid-sentence.

"I am Alina," the purple haired female says.

"Kilian," I say softly, with a small nod. They sit me down on a chair, and lean it back, and instantly go to work. Ellie, I believe, plays around with my hair, the other twin paints my nails, while Alina waxes my body-hair, eyebrows, and applies some make-up. Soon, they leave, not once speaking a word, and Alina throws me a robe. I pull it on, and sit up in the chair. I notice my long hair isn't flowing down my back again, and I stand up to look in the mirror. My hair is in a bun, with two, slim braids wrapped around it. A small collection of fake, green, and orange leaves is woven into the front of my braids, giving the illusion of a crown. My eyes have light orange over them, my lips are glossed a peachy color, and my cheeks have traces of red, orange, and pink in them. My facial features are highlighted, and I feel beautiful. I admire myself in the mirror for a little while, and I barely notice as a woman steps into the room.

"Kilian, my name is Macira," a soprano voice sounds out from the other side of the room. I turn around to see a woman with light brown hair, with bright pink highlights. She has pink makeup all over her face, and is wearing a pink dress.

"Hi," I say softly, as she takes off my robe, and inspects my naked body.

"Yes, this will work perfectly," she mumbles to herself, before leaving the room. She isn't gone a full thirty seconds before she returns, this time, a off-white bag in her hands. She unzips it, to reveal a deep green dress. I slip into it with ease, and admire myself in the mirror. The top part is tightened against my skin, with a corset, the bottom flows out, in green waves. Among the waves, there are several cream orange highlights.

"Put these on too," Macira says, slipping some shoes under my dress bottom. I step into them, and even in the high heels, the dress touches the floor. I look like a princess. The leaves are my crown, and the dress is my gown.

Macira steps me into an elevator on the side of the room, and we go down quickly. I bunch up a bit of the soft fabric when the elevator begins, the drop and smooth it out, when the elevator door's open. The first thing I see is tributes. Most of them are already down here, some on their chariots, some talking to other tributes, and some screaming about something I couldn't make out. The girl from Three is a few feet away, and she is readjusting a sliverish black body suit, that to me, looks very uncomfortable. I spot out the brown-haired girl from eight, named Gossamer. The girl who gave a menacing smirk, and was glad to participate in these sick games. She was wearing a red silk skirt, along with a embroidered bodice, and she still has that red choker on.

I climb into the district Seven chariot, not bothering to eye over the rest of the tributes, and wait until the first chariots begin to move. The second Six's chariot begins to move, Macira comes up to me.

"Throw your arms up when the chariot stops," she whispers, and the chariot's off. Trying to make sense of what she said, I hazily wave to the crowd. Their loud cheers bring me back to reality, and I wave, blow kisses, I even catch a flower thrown at me, kiss a petal, and throw it back in the general direction of where it came from. The chariot stops, and I lift my arms up. A gasp escapes Matthew, and the crowd. I look down, to see the gentle flows of green fabric turn into leaves, and gently drift away, as if there was a slight breeze. I am left in a skin tight, knee length, strapless, cream orange dress, that's made out of a rough leather. I watch as my leaves fly away, slowly, carried by a non-existent breeze.

Snow comes onto the balcony shortly after the District Twelve chariot arrives. He looks young, too young to be president. It's as if he just turned twenty, and was elected. He looks oddly normal for the centerpiece of the Capital. He has plain, short, brown hair, and creamy white skin. Even if he does look normal, he is still the sickest of anyone here.

"Welcome, tributes," he motions towards the chariots, "guests," he motions towards the crowd of capital people, and they go crazy. He begins the speech of how the dark days began, and why we have the Hunger Games. Then he explains the rules, and makes it sound a lot more difficult than it is. If I was in his position, and I would say; "This is the Hunger Games. We take twenty four children, we polish them up, and parade them around the gem of Panem, then throw them into an arena, and let them fight out to the death, until one remains standing. Then we take that person, and remind them of their games every year until they die. Don't worry, us here in the capital are all free from harm." Then his speech is over, and the chariots begin to move again, and are enveloped in darkness for a few seconds.

* * *

**A:N/ **Now, let's give credit where credit is due.

Sapphira Golde; District 1- wholockfromcamelot.

Tojo Micita; District 1- Whirl writer.

Helena (Howl) Draconix; District 2- Incubiis.

Binary Faber; District 3- Lupus Overkill.

Maras Athila; District 4- xXInfinity'sSoundXx

Elise Victorien Rochefort; District 6- SeekerDraconis (Sorry, SeekerDraconis, I forgot her the first time I wrote this. My apologies!)

Gossamer Abigail Pierson; District 8- Kittyistwix

Fera Chansolar; District 9- Somedayisours

Alexia Rosenwood; District 11- Sithlord8665

Please review! Feedback helps me improve! (Favoriting is loved too!)


	4. Filler Chapter

**A/N:** I mentioned earlier I was moving soon, and Kittyistwix, the amazing creator of Gossamer, suggested I make a chapter on the alliance character and the merciless killer. I figured it'd be easy to do, especially since I'm busy all the freaking time. So, here it is. It's mostly an interview chapter, and it's still Kilian's P.O.V, it takes place before and after her own interview.

**Sapphira's Interview.**

I take her in as she confidently strides over the stage. Her black hair flutters softly off her back, with each stride. She takes a seat, and instantly straightens her posture. Ceasar kisses her hand, and she crosses her legs. She's wearing a blue dress, that almost reaches her knees. It's dark blue at the top, but gradients into a light blue. It almost looks as if it's twinkling.

"Evening Sapphira," Ceasar greets her.

"Hello Ceasar," Sapphira says, a wide smile spreading on her face. It looks forced, but nonetheless, a smile.

"So, what would your angle in the arena be?" Ceasar asks, and her smile drops a little.

"I don't want to give away to much," she says, protruding her bottom lip, into a pout.

"Aw, come on, please, just a little," Ceasar begs.

"I don-" she stops and they crowd groans, "Know what? Okay, I'll do it," and the crowd cheers. She flips a chunk of her curly, dark hair over her shoulder before speaking again. "Let's just say, I'm quick, and I'm not afraid to die," she says softly, "I'm willing to take risks," she adds, and Ceasar claps.

"That sounds wonderful!" he applauds her, and the rest of the crowd joins in.

"Thank you," she replies, and giggles a bit. The buzzer sounds.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Sapphira Golde, from District One!" Ceasar booms, throwing her hand in the air, and she exits the stage.

**Binary's Interview.**

I sit motionless, watching my ally walk to the stage. She sits down, and her soft curls bounce slightly.

"Welcome, Binary," Ceasar says, and thee crowd goes silent.

"Evening Ceasar," she says with a soft smile. I look over Binary's outfit, it's a silver, strapless, knee-length dress. A thin, black belt goes around her waist, and meets in the center, with a small, silver gear. She tucks her legs under the seat, and lays her hands on part of the fabric, right before the hem.

"How has your stay been?" Ceasar asks.

"Different," she answers.

"How so?" Ceasar asks, staring at her.

"Well, everything is much more advanced. Even in Three, where we had advanced technology, I never expected the Capital to be so radiant, and so much more ahead of us," she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes, it's something us here in the Capital don't really think about," Ceasar says, and Binary nods.

"You never think about it, unless you see a difference," Binary says, with a smile.

"So, tell us something about the alliance you have formed, I bet everyone knew about it," Ceasar says, making Binary smile.

"Let's just say, someone in that alliance, will come out a victor," she responds, putting a hand on her knee.

"How can you be sure?" Ceasar says.

"I won't tell you much, but I think we are prepared for any arena," she states, and with that the buzzer rings.

"Binary Faber! District Three!" Ceasar booms, lifts her hand, and she walks off the stage.

**A/N:** This character isn't in the alliance, but I totally forgot about her earlier and felt horrible, so as an extra apology to her creator (SeekerDraconis,) I will be doing her character too.  
**Elise's Interview**

"Hello Elise," Ceasar says, giving her a pat on the hand as soon as she settles, and the crowd calms down.

"Hello Ceasar," she replies, with a warm smile.

"So, tell me, do you know anything about the girl you volunteered in place of?" Ceasar asks.

"Jeala? She's my best friend. We met in kindergarten," she says, and the camera zooms in on her icy blue eyes again.

"That's very nice of you to volunteer, but why did you do it?" Ceasar asks, and her face droops.

"I don't mean to be rude to Jeala," she says, before turning to one of the cameras. "Jeala, I volunteered in place of you, because I thought I had a higher chance of winning. If I do win, you have the right to be mad at me for my reasoning, and I shouldn't have thought about you like that," she says, her face solemn, and it looks as if she could cry.

"That's a very powerful message," Ceasar says, and she turns back to him.

"I just, I don't want her to be mad at me," She says, her bottom lip quivering.

"I doubt she is. You just apologized to her in front of all of Panem," Ceasar states.

"I hope she accepts it," Elise whispers to him, and the buzzer rings.

"Elise Victorien Rochefort. District Six!" Ceasar booms, and Elise makes her way off the stage, the crowd cheering wildly behind her.

**Gossamer's Interview.**

I take a seat next to Binary, which I assume she saved for me, I look up at the screen, Matthew is just now getting off the stage. Now, I can see Goss, waving to the crowd, as she walks to take her seat.

"So, Gossamer, you and your allies are the talk of the Capital this year," Ceasar states, patting her hand. She's in a light blue, elegant evening gown. I remember her telling me, before the first interview started, that is was made of the fabric she was named after. It's a very rough fabric, and I'm surprised she isn't uncomfortable in it. She's also wearing her choker.

"Thank you, Ceasar, and I'm not surprised, my allies are amazing in everything they try," she says, giving out an airy chuckle.

"Yes, so more about you; what's your goal in the arena?" Ceasar asks.

"Like Binary says, I plan on getting someone in the alliance out a victor, even if it's not me," Goss says, with a small smile. I can tell she's really nervous. I don't know much about fabrics, or necklines, or any other type of dressy things, but I can tell you one thing, Gossamer's dress is unbelievably beautiful, and it flutters slightly with every move.

"That's a very good strategy to take, I'm sure, either way, everyone in this crowd will remember you," Ceasar says.

"Thank you, but I'm not like Kilian, who has enough attitude to spare, or Binary, who constantly changes her mind. I'm Gossamer Abigail Pierson, and I'm here to impact these games," she says, a sly smile on her face.

"I think you've done that already," Ceasar says, patting her hand. The buzzer goes off, and Ceasar raises her hand in the air. "Gossamer Pierson. District Eight!" Ceasar booms.

**A/N:** There you go. The packing of my life is almost over, so I'll be able to write more often. It's 4 a.m. here. I've been talking to my amazing beta; fluteorwrite, for a while. We are so creatively random.

Kittyistwix also suggested I do sponsor gift points. I've already devolved a system, and of course, like all things else in this story, it has my own changes to it.

Rules: PM me to find out how may points you have, if you're too lazy to do the math on your own. PM me for gift options, etc.

How to get points:

Submitting a category one tribute (This would have been done before this story began): 10 points.

Submitting a category two tribute (Again. Done before the story began): 50 points.

Submitting a category three tribute (Done before this story began): 100 points.

(For a handful of people, who had their tribute adjusted, due to different matters, talk to me about your points so far. If you submitted a tribute to a category, and I couldn't accept it, again, talk to me, you will have special adjustments to your points)

If you left a review; you will get half the points of the amount of characters you used. The reviews must actually be about the story, not gibberish.

If you want to combine points with another sponsor for the tribute you want to send a gift to, talk to me, and I'll connect you with someone.

I'll be trying to get the next chapter (first arena scene) in before I move, and remember; Reviews are my motivation!


	5. The Beginning of The Arena

**A/N: **I'm so sorry for the wait on this chapter! I'll talk more about it at the bottom. For now, read!

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~Gossamer's P.O.V~

I watch as Binary struggles to get comfortable for a few seconds, then, let's out a loose sigh, and closes her eyes. A cannon sounds, and I let a sob I've been keeping in for so long slip out. Binary shoots up.

"Was it-?" she begins, and I slowly nod my head. I let the tears flow freely down my cheeks, and I keep sobbing softly. I even make out Binary sobbing quietly next to me. I let Binary fall slowly asleep, and I lean back into the tree, and mourn Kilian's death as silently as I can.

~Kilian's P.O.V~

I wake up in some sort of cave. I rub my sore head as I look around. The last memory I can think of re-surfaces. I was brought here by Sapphira. My question is; why am I still alive? I stretch my limbs a little, as my eyes adjust to the extremly dim light. I see a small figure in the corner. I stare at it for a secod, before I realise it's a girl tribute. From the way her back suddenly arches, then hesitantly falls down. I slowly walk over to her, and begin to speak to her, a respectful few feet away.

"I'm Kilian," I whisper. The girl stops sobbing, and looks at me. "I'm from Seven," I say, and she nods.

"I'm Maras, from Four," she responds so softly it took me a second to place it in my head.

"Why are we still alive?" I ask quickly, yet quietly. She stops hunching over in a corner, and sits down to face me.

"Sapphira was part of the Career pack. Until she murdered the others quickly after the bloodbath. She's stronger than us. I was kept alive because she thought I had many sponsors, and the gifts would be easy to get for me. She told me she would keep me for a while, use me to attract sponsors in my poor condition, and eventually tie me down, and throw me into the lake," she says softly, a tear falling down and glistening in the little light we had.

"And me?" I ask in a hushed whisper, afraid to even hear the answer. She whispers something inaudible, and I piece it together in my mind, before I stand up in shock.

"You mean-?" I ask, my voice breaking, she nods.

"Kilian, I know you and your alliance have a better chance than me. I want to help you, but for now, we're stuck in here," she says softly, pointing to a giant rock. That's how we're getting light, from where the rock wouldn't fit. She sits me down, and I begin to cry softly.

"Can you tell me some more about yourself?" I ask her, and she nods.

"I don't have any friends. I refuse to make them. Sure, there were girls I admired, and wanted to be their friends, but it wasn't exactly possible for me. I was way too quick to judge. I'm not used to allies, or anything. I absolutely hate the Capitol!" she screams at the top of her lungs. I think she might die for a second, but realise, my death would be a bigger matter because of how much talk my alliance is getting. Just that second, the giant rock is slightly moved, and someone walks in.

"Now," Sapphira's voice instructs, and Maras jumps up, she grabs my elbow.

"Follow," Sapphira commands. Maras drags me out of the cave, and into the sun. Sapphira takes several more steps after we stop. I look around. The sun is almost down, the last of the lights now glowing, before they disappear. I catch Maras staring at the sky too, and gently nudge her.

"Berries," Sapphira says, and Maras drags me to a small bush I didn't notice was there. She begins to gently pick the small fruits off, and I follow.

"Tell me about yourself," she says softly.

"There's not much to say. My sister, Makayla, was chosen for an earlier games. When she died, I knew I was going to end up dead getting revenge. I only had one friend growing up. I had others who I might have called my friends, but they weren't very trustworthy. Mariah, my best friend, knew everything about me. She was there the day of the reaping, she was right next to me, and I thought she might volunteer, but I told her not to. My brother disobyed the peacekeepers, and was killed publicly. Right before I left for the train to get to the Capitol, my parents were killed by peacekeepers." I say softly, a lump growing in my throught so hugely, I couldn't breathe straight. Maras must have noticed this, so she didn't ask anything else, until Sapphira came over.

"Give them here," Sapphira says, Maras and I scoot over, so she can examine the berries that we placed in a ditch. She begins to say something else, but I can't think straight, as Maras grabs my arm, and pulls me towards her.

"You'll need to run," she whispers. I look at her, then to the sky. The sun has been down for not so long. I nod slowly. Sapphira raises her head to question us, but is caught off-guard by Maras charging towards her with a knife I didn't know she had. I stare as Maras wide-eyed, wondering why she would do that for me. Then, I take her advice, and run as fast as my feet will carry me.

"NO!" Sapphira bellows, before a hiss of pain erupts loudly. I run faster, and I hear Maras shout. I slow down for a second, and catch my breath, huffing slowly, while still moving. I hear a cannon, and I know it was Maras.

"Goodbye," I whisper softly into the night, stopping, as I raise my thumb and my forefinger to my cheek. I keep it there for a second, before kissing them. It was the district salute. It meant goodbye to someone who meant a lot. Goodbye to someone you loved. I think right now, I did love Maras, because she gave her life for my own. I pick up my feet, and begin to move again, racing through the hills, and never stopping, or looking back, because I know, I might just lose my life. I finally hit the treeline, some time after, and bend over to catch my breath. I look up in the trees, searching for anything I can use. Any tree that might be possible to rest in, without being seen. That's not what I find. I see Gossamer, and Binary in a tree. I can see a glistening wetness on Gossamer's cheeks, and she looks in the other direction, staring at the moon.

"Goss," I whisper softly, and she jumps.

"Kilian?" she asks quietly, into the night, far above my head. I become slient for a second, before running over to the tree, and climbing it. I get to the fork they've settled into, and lightly sit next to Goss.

"I'm alive," I say softly.

"Uninjured?" she asks, arching an eyebrow.

"As far as I can tell," I say, and sigh.

"So who was that canon?" she asks.

"Maras, the girl from Four," I reply. She doesn't ask anything else.

"I can take watch," I say, as she nods, before turning over. I listen as her breathing becomes even. I sigh, and watch nothing remain, the noises of the night relaxing me. Sometime later, Binary slowly wakes up, and stares at me, as if I've grown another head.

"Kilian?" she says, a trace of hopefulness in her voice as she looks me over. I nod, and tears begin to spill down her cheeks.

"I-I thought you were," she says, her voice breaking horribly, as she thought of the last word.

"I'm not," I whisper softly, collecting Binary into my arms, as we hold each other.

"I'll take watch," Binary says, and I nod, before slowly dosing off into sleep, sitting against the tree trunk.

"Kilian, wake up," Binary says, and my eyelids fly open. She jumps down from the tree, and meets up with Goss at the bottom. I rub my eyes, and stretch slightly, before following Binary. I comb through my hair as we walk, Gossamer leading us. We go through many trees, and it seems to be all there is. Until we reach a meadow, hidden in the middle of the trees. Goss pulls out a knife, and Binary backs up slowly.

"Let's face it," Goss says softly, her voice filled with sorrow. "Only one can win," she says, before grabbing Binary.

"No!" I scream, and Goss gives me a sad look.

"I'm so sorry," she says, before sticking the knife into Binary's neck. All too quickly the canon booms, but the wrong body falls over. Goss does. Binary sighs softly, as the knife falls down with Goss. I get a look at it, and realise, the knife was barely in there, and there's hardly a cut. I pull Binary into a hug, as she rubs the mark. I open my eyes, and look around, realising somebody had to kill Goss. A small figure appears from the trees, and approaches us.

"I'm Elise," the girl says, sticking out her hand. I let Binary go, and shake it.

"I'm Binary, this is Kilian, and that is, well, was Gossamer," Binary says, and Elise nods.

"Shall we be allies?" Elise asks softly, and I nod after a small amount of thought.

"How did you kill her anyways?" I ask her, before she silently walks over to Gossamer, and tips her over, revealing a small wooden tool implanted into her back. It wasn't large enough to be a spear, so the choice of weapon confused me, but I just shrugged it off.

"How well do you know where we are?" I ask her.

"I have camp set up not too far away," she responds curtly.

"Can we go?" Binary asks softly, still rubbing her neck.

"Sure," she says. She leads us over to where she appeared, and we go through trees. I hear a loud hum above us, and give my signal to Goss. I understand why she did it. What I don't understand, is how she could do it. Binary notices, and nods softly, before we both begin to walk again.

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**A/N: **Okay, so about uploading. When I moved, we didn't have internet for days. It was awful. I did manage to get very many chapters written.  
Just so you guys know, you may sponsor at any time! I'm ready to take offers!  
Special thanks to Fluteorwrite. Without her, this story would be a rip-off. Plus, I didn't have enough time to self-edit this chapter, and it made more work for her, so I', very sorry Flute!


	6. To let you know

I haven't updated in a LOOONNNGGGG time. I have a really good reason too. This isn't an update on the story, I just want you guys to know what happened to me.

Well, I've been really, really sick.

See, a few months ago, a girl broke a organ in my body, and basically, that organ is coming to kill me. I won't die, but I still feel like crap.

I'll update whenever I can/ feel up to updating. My doctor put me on a medicine to patch up the organ. Some side-effects are extreme dizziness, migraines, cramps, and fatigue. The heat also interacts horribly to the medicine. Since it's Summer, you could imagine I'm in pain.

Updating this story isn't one of my biggest concerns at this time, as you could imagine.

I just wrote this to let you know, your author is really sick.

Thanks for your understanding.

~Ashley


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